Mr Mascellani's Musings

“Oh Farmer Brown!
exclaimed the milkmaids,
your cock really does arouse us”.

“His cock,
said Mrs. Brown, with a frown,
will be on the chopping block
if he doesn’t put it back in his trousers”.

Don't forget
to bring
the chicken.

Remember
what happened

the last time
you forgot.

There once was-like- this real
gone crazy cool dharma chicken from out of- like-
town who gobbled down goofy
grain balls filled with -like-goofy grain ball goodness
and- like–this groovy chicken-
like-never wore a frown,
on his dial,
you dig?
Until the day he learned
chickens can't play bongos nor bass real hot or cool -like-
cause they lack- like- an opposable thumb, and lips
so they can- like- groove and play a bit but never
Dad-dy-0
will they reach the standard of playing of an enlightened
being who’s- like-
one with the continuums of time and space
and -like-who has touched the Godhead
and can see the universe in a grain of sand,
and who can dig,
-like-really dig,
the poetry of William Blake.
Nor will a chicken ever play-like-somerighteoeus cat whose lady has left
him and has gone, really gone, gone, gone to -like- '
Vegas or maybe London
and- like- all that cat's got is- like-gallons of gin and vermouth
but -like- no olives
and with-like- Charlie Parker CDs with -
like- all the cool snap, crackles pops, and scratches
all -like -digitally
removed making them sound- like- real
square man, real cold, sterile and square, man.
-like-L7 square and that realisation got him-like-
you know, real down.
Real- like- beat
down beat
ungroovy
motherclucker down.

Cacophonous squawks arise again from my farmyard premises
as the chickens sense the presence of their skulking enemy,
none other than the fox, their wily old nemesis.

He’s come to pilfer some more of my plump poultry
Damn you varmint! One day I’ll wear you as a garment!
You’ll learn, vulpine thief, which of us is truly crafty.

This is just to say,
that as you were working last night
I got bored and called up the guys
and we all went to the pub.

Afterwards, we were a bit peckish
but the kebab shop on the corner was closed
So, I invited the guys back here
and we ate the chicken in the fridge
which you were probably
saving for that dinner
you’re having for your parents, tonight.

Oh, and if you were wondering
why the red wheelbarrow is all wet.
After fifteen cans of beer,
Jack didn't make it to the bathroom.

I say, look over yonder at that thar rooster
He’s dancin’ and prancin’and romancin’ the lady chickens
--hens that is.
He’s flippin’ and a floppin’ and jim jam jopplin';
he’s crowin’, he’s schmoozin’ and a groovin’.
He’s struttin’, butt feather waggin’, shaggin’,
braggin’, beboppin’ ,name droppin’, hippin'
and hoppin’, film-flamin’, slammin’,
wailin’ and wham-bam-thank-you-mamin’.
He’s one happenin' rooster.
Look at him, go, go, go.
Hurry! Hurry!
Damn.
You missed it.
He’s snoozin' now.

When Lola was a child
all the other kids had teddy bears,
while Lola owned a teddy chicken.

When Lola was a college senior
her friends and she got tattoos
They chose hearts, nymphs, and tribal Celtic designs.
She selected a Long Island Red for her right shoulder.

When Lola was a middle-aged mum
all the other mum's wore fluffy bunny slippers.
Not Lola, her feet were adorned with feathery chicken slippers.

When Lola was an old woman
all the other elderly ladies lived with their cats.
Lola lived with her chickens.